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Monday, January 16, 2006

"How's the gumbo?" the middle-aged man asked me.

"Pretty good. It's nice and filling."

"I'll have that."

"Sounds good."

I turned in his order, and a few minutes later, brought it out. When I went back to check on him, he stopped me.

"This gumbo is terrible."

"Alright. Would you like a menu so you can try something else?"

"I mean, I've had gumbo all over the world--Canada, Louisiana, France--and this is the worst."

"So do you want a menu?"

"I mean, I'd like to eat something."

"I'll bring you a menu."

I brought him a menu, and left him to decide on something else.

When I returned a moment later, I asked him what he'd like.

"Listen: this gumbo turned me off. Big time. I want something that's going to take the taste of that out of my mouth."

"Well, there's lots to choose from."

"This gumbo, I tell you--it tasted like it was sitting in a big steel vat for 48 hours, just burning away. And then somebody scraped the bottom of the vat, and put it in a bowl, and then served it to me."

"The chicken is nice."

He thought for a moment. "I'll have that. Can't mess that up too bad."

"Sounds good to me."

"Because that gumbo fucking sucked."

"I hear ya."

Conclusion: Gumbo at a 24-hour breakfast cafe may not be all it's cracked up to be.


Blogger Cibbuano said...

mmmm gumbo...

man, I could really go for some gumbo.

I mean, I've had gumbo all over the world--Canada, Louisiana, France--...

6:35 PM  

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